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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374671">A Bowl of Cherries</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPriest/pseuds/MariaPriest'>MariaPriest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Sexual Fantasy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:46:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPriest/pseuds/MariaPriest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon wasn't expecting this reaction while he watched Illya tie a cherry stem.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Illya Kuryakin &amp; Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Bowl of Cherries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I think it’s time we celebrate, Illya,” Napoleon Solo said to his new partner, Illya Kuryakin.</p>
<p>“Is this an American holiday?  Or perhaps it is your birthday?”</p>
<p>Napoleon smiled indulgently.  “Not a holiday, not my birthday, which is in January, by the way.  I was thinking we could celebrate the success of our third mission and what appears to be a promising partnership.”</p>
<p>Illya shot him a suspicious look.  “Am I to surmise you were unable to secure a date for this evening?”</p>
<p>The American sighed.  “Ah, you caught me out, my astute friend.  I was going to ask you to dinner and drinks tomorrow, but since Madeline has a family emergency, I thought maybe tonight … since I have reservations ...?”  He added raised eyebrows and a mildly pleading expression to persuade his partner that he really wanted his company.</p>
<p>Illya toyed with Napoleon by waiting to answer, as if his answer for an invitation to eat and imbibe could be anything but in the affirmative.  “I have no problem with being your second choice tonight rather than your first tomorrow, particularly since you are paying and I am quite ravenous and thirsty.”</p>
<p>“Excellent.  See you at <em>La Belle Vie</em>, 8 o’clock.”  Napoleon ran his hand over the coarse, dull black fabric of Illya’s lapel.  “And wear something, ah, <em>nicer</em>.  I have a reputation to uphold.”</p>
<p>The Soviet looked at his well-worn clothing.  “This <em>is</em> my best suit, Napoleon.  And why would the way I dress have any effect on your reputation?”</p>
<p>“The company one keeps says something about the man, IK,” he said, waving his fingers at him as he left the Section II agents’ lounge.</p>
<p>=^.^=</p>
<p>Illya shuddered at the poor quality of his “dirty martini,” which the Americans called vodka and pickle juice.</p>
<p>Napoleon chuckled at the displeased state of Illya’s face.  “How about you try some other cocktail?”</p>
<p>“What do you suggest?”</p>
<p>“Hmm...  Well, we are on the island of Manhattan, so how about a drink named after it?”</p>
<p>“What are the ingredients?”</p>
<p>“There’s, uh, Canadian whiskey, usually, sweet vermouth, and bitters.  It’s garnished with a Maraschino cherry.”</p>
<p>“Why does a cocktail named ‘Manhattan’ contain Canadian whiskey?  It seems that it should be a whiskey made in this country.”</p>
<p>Napoleon was just beginning to realize how trying the Americanization of Illya Kuryakin would likely be.  “I don’t have the slightest.  Maybe you could research this in your spare time.  In the meantime …"  He signaled for the bartender.</p>
<p>=^.^=</p>
<p>Napoleon watched Illya’s full lips attach themselves to the lowball glass then sip.  At that moment, he imagined them around his erect penis, and not for the first time.  The first time was when they had met, and he had fallen in lust with the enigmatic, gorgeous Russian.  Not that he’d ever act on it, seeing as he didn’t have a death wish, or worse, lose his balls and bat.</p>
<p>“Well, what do you think?”</p>
<p>Illya looked thoughtful for a moment as he formed his opinion.  “It is… enjoyable.  You have chosen wisely, Napoleon.”</p>
<p>Pleased with himself, Napoleon smiled and sipped his own cocktail, a Rusty Nail.  “You can eat the cherry if you like.”</p>
<p>Illya held the cherry up by its stem and slowly brought the red fruit to his mouth.  Napoleon almost gasped as Illya opened his mouth, bared his teeth, then closed them around the plump drupe to suck on it for a few moments, finally pulling it from its stem.  After he swallowed, Illya said, “Very sweet.”</p>
<p>Napoleon tried to ignore his growing manhood.  <em>Maybe a little distraction will help</em>.  “Ah, ever tried to tie a knot in a cherry stem?”</p>
<p>Illya gave Solo a puzzled look.  “What is the purpose of doing that?”</p>
<p>Napoleon had to admit it was a good question.  “I would guess it’s for a person to show they can do something unusual and difficult.”</p>
<p>“I do like a challenge.”  With that, Illya placed the stem on his tongue and closed his mouth around it.</p>
<p><em>This should be fun to watch</em>, thought Napoleon.</p>
<p>It was entertaining.  He was fascinated by Illya's intense focus, as if knot-tying was just as important as defusing that bomb on their first mission.  Soon, however, Napoleon found himself mesmerized by the machinations of Illya’s mouth, with his tongue’s actions popping out in his cheeks and lips.  Napoleon, helpless, yielded to the escalating fantasy.</p>
<p>
  <em>He kisses me, uses that nimble tongue to push my lips open.  I welcome the invasion with a little moan, not too loud.  He manipulates my tongue with his, twisting, shoving, then stops to suck it into his mouth.  Now he's encircling my tongue with his while at the same time doing a damn fine imitation of a Hoover.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He moves to my nipples.  He goes left with his mouth, and not wanting to make that one jealous, he tweaks and rubs the right.  His tongue twirls and sucks and licks with increasing fervor.  Oh, and he nibbles, too, just shy of biting.  Enough pain to heighten the pleasure, both so excruciatingly wonderful.  The sounds he makes with that amazing muscle drive me higher.  I add a moan, this one louder, telling him how sensitive my nipples are and how his tongue needs to form no words to communicate how much he's enjoying this, too.</em>
</p>
<p>Napoleon backed off slightly from the fantasy, realizing he was getting very close to ejaculating from brain stimulation alone.  Illya continued to work at that cherry stem, apparently oblivious that Napoleon was approaching a very heated state.  Unable to resist, he fell back full force into his erotic daydream.</p>
<p>
  <em>I place my hands on that soft, blond hair but find I don't need to push him down because he knows just what I want and when I want it.  He's moved on to my cock.  All those… motions combined with wet heat of that seductive mouth.  He sucks while he twists his tongue around the head, then my cock goes deeper, where he forms a tight cradle around it.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Would he use teeth there as well?  What would he do with my balls?  Christ, I’d give anything for him to manipulate my balls like that damned cherry stem.  Hell, this was supposed to be a distraction, not foreplay.  Damn, Illya!  I’m hard as a rock!</em>
</p>
<p>Suddenly, Illya beamed in obvious triumph.  He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out at Napoleon, apparently not concerned how improper such a thing was to do in a fine dining establishment.  And on top of that dark pink tongue was a knotted cherry stem.</p>
<p>Napoleon was tempted to put his own mouth around that talented piece of muscle and suck it and the stem it displayed into his greedy mouth.  With gargantuan effort and the fortuitous approach of the <em>maître d’</em>, Napoleon conquered his desire.</p>
<p>“<em>Monsieur </em>Solo,” said the <em>maître d’</em> in a soft, pleasing French accent, “again, my apologies for the wait.  Your table is ready now.  Please, follow me.”</p>
<p>Illya had taken the tied stem off his tongue and placed it in a nearby ashtray.  Inexplicably, Napoleon wanted to snatch it up as a souvenir, but resisted.  And he had to come up with an excuse to stay at the bar until his erection subsided to at least half-staff.  “Thank you, Charles.  If it’s okay with you, my friend and I would like to stay here and finish our drinks.”</p>
<p>“But of course, <em>monsieur</em>.  Please have Jean-Luc alert me when you are ready.”  Charles gave them a shallow bow before leaving.</p>
<p>Illya took another sip of the Manhattan.  “Napoleon, are these Maraschino cherries available in local markets?  I would like to do this tying thing faster.”</p>
<p>Napoleon smiled angelically while his cock twitched at the image of the object of his lust performing fruit fellatio over and over and over...  “Well, <em>tovarishch</em>, faster isn't always better.”</p>
<p>The Russian shrugged.  “I suppose you are correct.  Some things <em>are</em> best performed at a more… leisurely pace.”</p>
<p>“As to your question, I would think a grocery store would have them.  If not, maybe a liquor store?”  <em>How about I buy you a big bowl of cherries and you pretend I’m the stems?</em></p>
<p>=^.^=</p>
<p>Illya, naked except for a towel atop his chest and abdomen, climbed into bed after turning off the bedside lamp.  As he settled into his preferred position for pleasuring himself, he again thought how lucky he’d been when his partner suggested he tie a knot in a cherry stem.   He’d learned to accomplish this little feat during a drinking party with other international physics students at Cambridge.</p>
<p>A devious and cunning expression formed on his face as he prided himself on his deception and on seeing how his prolonged performance had excited Napoleon in the desired way.</p>
<p>With his left hand, he stroked his engorged penis; with his right, fondled his balls, all the while imagining his partner working magic with his mouth and hands all over his body.  Further heightening his sexual enjoyment was the mathematical certainty -- he had run the math in his head earlier, though anyone who knew the man wouldn’t need to do the math -- that Solo was doing the same thing, likely at this same moment.   He came hard, imagining he had ejaculated deep within the handsome, charming American.</p>
<p>He sighed and smiled, delighted that this unexpected opportunity had allowed him to successfully complete Phase 1 of the seduction of Napoleon Solo.</p>
<p>the end<br/>
2020</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not beta'd, so please overlook any and all mistakes.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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